***This is actually Postdata***
F, C
TRACERS
Pressed my fingers inside your skin
Traced the lines the lines the lines the lines the lines that time dug in
Kept on tracing, tracing, tracing
Traced and traced until you were a girl of 13 years again
Before my grandpa’s callused hands
Trade your eyes for rocks and sand
The times that stick inside your skull just sorta ferally clinging
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The times that stick when time’s not sticking
A thousand pages in the wind
Ten thousand pages in the wind
Layed my body on your body
Pressed my hands inside your hands
Pressed my lips and kissed and kissed until I was 13 again
Pressed and pressed and pressed and pressed
Fill up my brains with soil and rock
Something to hold the remnants in
With cattle herds and meteors and light showers and soil and rock
Time’s a’ diggin’
